


In This Raging World Where Love Is The Only Outcry Allowed

by theothersideofthestorm



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Abigail is a badass, Gen, James and Thomas are in love, James and Thomas to the rescue, John Silver is a looming presence, John Silver writes letters, Love Letters, M/M, Post-Canon, despite the description there's not much angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-11-19 12:22:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11313312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theothersideofthestorm/pseuds/theothersideofthestorm
Summary: Abigail Ashe, rebel, is taken to Savannah. James and Thomas, who have long escaped and painfully built a new life, must go back into hell and rescue her. Will it be enough?





	1. I'll Listen To Your Steps And With Every Step I'll Be Healing

Abigail woke, suddenly, with a hand to her mouth and a weight holding her down.

  
Panic ran through her. She barely had time to react before she was forced up from her bed and carried through the door. She tried to kick, to struggle, to scream. They were too strong. She noticed, distractingly, that even with all the commotion none of the servants had woken. No one came for her.

  
She briefly considered that whoever had sent these men to take her must be very afraid of her if they had thought that four grown men against a young girl set the odds straight.

  
She felt a surge of anger at this. When she bit the hand that was covering her mouth, she heard with satisfaction a stifled scream. Someone barked an order. It was the last thing she heard before she felt an acute pain to the side of the head.

  
She let darkness take her under.

***

Many miles away, James woke up gasping and instinctively grabbed the hand that was lying on the pillow beside him.

  
It hadn't been a nightmare. When he had nightmares, he usually woke up drenched in sweat, sometimes crying, sometimes already on his feet and ready to fight. This was something different. Beside him, Thomas slowly stirred.

  
"James? What is it?"

  
James took a deep breath. He tried his best to recall what he had dreamed about. He couldn't.

  
"I can't... remember", he spoke slowly, "I woke up with this feeling in my guts. Like something dreadful was happening and I couldn't do anything to stop it."

  
Thomas sighed. He was still lying down, slowly stroking his hand in reassurance. The moonlight reflecting on the calm sea outside was entering the small bedroom, giving Thomas an almost otherworldly aura. Taking a long look at him, James couldn't help thinking how lucky he was. He smiled, feeling suddenly calmer.

  
"It was nothing. I'm fine." He said, sliding down until he was facing Thomas on the bed, their noses barely touching, their hands still entwined between their bodies.

  
Thomas said nothing. Although his forehead was still creased by lines of worry, the smile on his lips was genuine. In moments like these, James couldn't help wondering if this was where he was always supposed to be. That maybe everything that he - that they - had endured, that all the pain and loss and rage had been for a reason. It was because they could be here, in this moment, on their bed, not ashamed and not afraid. Together.

  
Whenever he caught himself thinking this kind of thing, he was surprised with himself. He was not this person. He was angry, in a continuous fight against the world. During the last ten years, he had grown used to feeling nothing but rage and desperation. He had hated England, furiously, desperately, for everything it had taken from them. He still did.

  
Now, however, the hatred that had poisoned his mind and soul was gone. He didn't want revenge anymore. He couldn't help thinking, lying on the bed with Thomas on a warm spring night, that he had finally found peace.

  
***

When Abigail woke again, it was with a sharp ache to her head and a dull discomfort in her back.

  
The floor was gently rocking beneath her. She realized, with a pang of fear, that she was on a boat. Slowly sitting up and assessing her surroundings, she saw that she was in a cabin, that she was on the floor, and that she was alone. When she tried to move, she found her hands tied up in front of her. She wondered, not without any pride, if they had restrained her because they had found her less cooperative than they had imagined.

  
She decided that whoever had taken her wouldn't have it easy. She would fight.

  
With the passing of the hours, however, and no one to come get her, she started to feel hopeless. She couldn't help remembering the first time she had been kidnapped by pirates on her way home. She had passed from the hands of trust-worthy sailors to those of a cruel and ruthless pirate who had brutally slaughtered the entire crew. She had endured, and hoped, only to be taken prisoner by another pirate, crueler and more ruthless.

  
She had been saved, then. A beautiful young woman had come and delivered her from that small and dirty cell, just when she was starting to lose hope. Like an angel. When Eleanor had told her that she would be under the protection of Captain Flint, she had recoiled. She was not as innocent as her father wanted her to be. She had heard the stories, the legends. Captain Flint was merciless, cruel, murderous, a pirate that would steal and burn and kill all those who would stand in his way. She was terrified, but what choice did she have?

  
When she had met him, however, it wasn't Captain Flint she saw. It was James McGraw. A pirate, yes, but human. And Miranda Hamilton, a woman from her past that she never thought she would see again. James and Miranda had taken her home. To her father.

  
For this very reason, when she had found out that Miranda had died, she'd grieved. When they had told her James would be executed, she'd raged. It was then that she started opening her eyes to the reality surrounding her. It was then that she started wondering what kind of man her father really was. She wasn't given the chance to wonder for much longer. The following day, when James was supposed to be hanged in the public square, a riot caused the death of her father. Her entire world had crumbled in front of her.

  
Two years had passed from that moment. Her father and her had never been close, but it was now, in the tiny and humid cabin, that she started to really feel the loss. Sometimes she missed him with an ache so intense she could hardly breathe.

  
She willed the tears away.

  
***

  
In the morning, James raised from the bed, careful not to wake Thomas, and went for a walk on the beach.

  
While he walked, the dreams of the previous night seemed to dissolve into the fresh air, and he let the morning wind envelop him. Everything was silent around him, and he let his mind wander.

  
When he had found Thomas again, he'd thought that he'd gotten everything he'd ever wanted. It was not easy, meeting him again, seeing how much he had changed. Counting his scars, and letting Thomas count his. Mourning Miranda. But they had pulled trough. They were together, at last.

  
He had thought he could finally let go of the sea. He couldn't.

  
After three months at the plantation, they had started to grow restless. Thomas had been there for years now, but finding James again had stirred something in him. They had decided to escape.

  
It had been easier than it actually looked like. They had gathered their few possession and, one night, they'd skipped the tall fence and left. No one had stopped them. Sometimes James wondered if Silver had anything to do with this. It had been far too easy, as if someone had bribed the guards to let them leave if they tried to.

After they had escaped, they had found a small house near the beach and settled down. James could never stay too far away from the sea. It had been two years since.

In the end, it was the wind that made him come back to reality. He inhaled and let calm wash over him.

With one last look at the ocean, James turned and made his way back to the house, where Thomas was probably waking up.

***

When the cabin door opened with a loud thud, Abigail didn't have the time to feel scared.

  
A short man entered the cabin and shut the door behind himself. He had a mean look in his eyes that Abigail didn't like. His clothes were torn, but they looked like an uniform of some sort. She reminded herself that she mustn't look scared. He wouldn't have this kind of power over her.

  
"Who are you?" She asked, feigning a confidence she didn't feel.

  
"You are going to listen to me, and you are going to do it silently." He started. "Here's how it's going to go down. We are taking you some place for your own safety. Your guardian ordered so. No harm will be done to you as long as you won't fight and you won't try to escape."

  
Her guardian. Victor Ashe, a man she had seen once in her entire life but who was legally entitled to her possessions until she got married. She felt a surge of frustration and hopelessness rise in her. She was, again, tied up and in the hands of strangers, with little to no hope to escape and no idea of where she was being taken. The man turned to leave.

  
She felt tears pooling in her eyes.

  
"Why?" The question came out weaker than she would have liked.

  
He stopped on the door. Turning his head, he laughed, brisk and spiteful.

  
"Oh, dear. You know why."

  
He left.

  
***

  
Thomas was walking fast.

  
He wasn't afraid of being recognized. He had been officially dead for ten years, after all. He just wanted to do everything he had to and get back home as soon as possible.

  
Freedom felt incredible. After ten years of imprisonment and forced labor, he wasn't used to being completely and unquestioningly free anymore. He took a deep breath and forced himself to slow down. He looked at the deep grey sky, and let himself bask in this feeling.

  
He made his way through the crowded streets of the city, looking around for something to get for James.

  
James. He couldn't help but smile at the thought of the man who was probably anxiously waiting for him at home. He was always so scared to let him go to the city on his own. He was afraid he would never see him come back. Thomas couldn't blame him.

  
When they had found each other again, it had been difficult. James was a different man. His demons, his scars, everything he had gone through during the last ten years. But what they had with each other was stronger than this. They had created their little world on the beach, filled it with books and love and tears and smiles. He'd thought James was happy.

  
However, lately he had become restless. It was like something was bothering him, like he was itching to get back something long lost. Thomas couldn't blame him. He had always known and accepted that there were parts of James he could never comprehend.

  
Some demons couldn't be tamed.

  
When he entered the crowded tavern, he immediately inhaled the stale smell of people and wine and sweat. He looked around, spotting the person he was looking for. When he had first met her, the first word that had come to mind was _regal_. She was a beautiful young woman, with clever eyes and the presence of a queen. Her dark skin was glistening with sweat while she was attending a table crowded with loud seamen.

  
He sat at a table in the corner, observing her for a while. She was clearly used to being listened to, but Thomas couldn't help noticing that she looked out of place in this cramped tavern. She belonged somewhere else. When she finally saw him, she whispered something to a young boy and then made her way to him.

  
She sat, facing him with a genuine smile playing on her lips.

  
"Thomas. It's been a while."

  
"Good morning, Miss Scott."

  
***


	2. Write on your tombstone that tragedies can make you laugh. You can indulge in your regrets.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James is ready to burn the world down and then isn't. Abigail is in deep shit. Thomas is conflicted. A letter is received.

James had been staring at a wall for two hours. It had all started in the morning, when Thomas was supposed to come back from his trip to the city. It should have been a one-day trip, Thomas just having to pick up the few necessary things they couldn't grow themselves or acquire otherwise. He should have been back _hours_ ago.

  
When dawn had come, James had flung himself out of bed and sat on the porch, trying to spot Thomas on the road. He had waited and waited, for what had seemed hours, for a tall and lean shape making his way on the road leading to their house. He hadn't come.

He had tried very hard not to panic. It was in moments like these that he realized how co-dependent they had become of each other. He had tried to rationalize it, listing in his head all the things that could have held him off, trying to calm his nerves down and find a rational explanation that didn't involve Thomas either captured or tortured or brutally killed. For a few hours he had miserably failed, already envisioning him in prison or his body hung on the gallows for display.

  
After a while, though, he had calmed down. More or less. At midday, he had realized he could do little but wait for his fate in their small house, and had settled down, trying to eat and, again, failing.

  
Now, he realized, he had been staring at the same spot on the ruined wall for quite a long time. He forced himself to tear his eyes off the patch of humidity that had seeped through the wall. He sighed, long and heavy, lowering his gaze to the intact and now cold cup of tea in his hands.

He made a decision. Just when he was getting up, ready to adventure into the city, risking everything they had built, just because he couldn't stand the thought of Thomas going through all that again, he heard a noise coming from outside.

  
He scrambled for the door and teared it open, the sudden burst of light blinding him for a second. When his eyes finally adapted to the daylight, he spotted a figure on the road. He felt a surge of joy and relief so intense he thought he might pass out from it.

  
Unthinkingly, he descended the three steps and started making his way towards Thomas. Thank God thank God _thank God_. The smile on Thomas' face when he saw him running was so bright it could have outshone the damned sun. When he reached him, James all but  leapt onto Thomas, clinging to him for dear life and burying his face into his shoulder. Thomas' fingers came to rest on his back and into his hair, rubbing slow circles, trying to soothe him.

  
“Hey, there.” Thomas laughed rumbled in his chest and through James' entire body. He felt like he might cry. A few minutes passed and James gave no indication of wanting to detach from Thomas' body.

  
“Alright, what is it, love?” Thomas asked. While he usually did not mind the closeness and the sudden burst of affection, he was probably starting to get slightly worried.  
James inhaled one last time the smell of Thomas' shirt and reluctantly took a step back, not quite meeting his eyes. “Nothing, I...”

  
“Let me guess.” Thomas laughed, stepping closer and wrapping his arm around James' shoulder. He started leading them back to the house while he talked. “I was a few hours late and you got scared I was never coming back. If I know you any well, you have probably sat staring at the table for hours, thinking of all the most dreadful scenarios of violence and death.”

  
James stared, feeling his ears start to redden. It was incredible how well Thomas could read him, how deeply Thomas knew him, down to the very core, even after all these years. “Well, you're not wrong.” conceded James at last.

  
“I seldom am, my dear.” Thomas smiled into his hair. “Now come, I have quite a lot to tell you.”

  
***

They hadn't been traveling for long when they finally reached the destination. Abigail, after the first days of initial shock, had tried to find out where she was being taken. Through the small window and keeping an eye on the sun, she had managed to see they were moving south-east. She could not imagine for the life of her what the final destination was.

  
She had even tried to make the sailors speak. They used to come into her cabin twice a day, to deliver the food and throw away the content of the bucket. She had interrogated them, asked where they were going, begged them to tell her who had given the order to take her, she had demanded to speak with the captain. She had been met with silence and, one time, with a harsh slap to the face.

She hadn't spoken anymore.

  
A few days later, she was woken by voices. Not the usual yells and laughs of the sailors, though, but the buzzing and living sound of a port. She scrambled up, trying to make out where they were, to capture sight of a friendly face who might help her, but she was too far to be seen.

  
She waited, and waited, and finally they came to get her. A tall man, with his skin burned by the sun and a deep scar on the neck, took her shackles in hand and made her to move. He didn't even glance at her. She realized, with a feeling of dread, that she was being treated as cargo.

So, that what she was. An item, a merchandise, to be shipped and sold God knew where, with no more free will, with nothing to say.

  
The fact was, she did know why this had happened. She knew perfectly well that, if you smuggled your family's information to pirates, there would be consequences. And she had also known that, once you've been discovered, if you kept on doing the exact same thing something was bound to happen. She knew, and yet hadn't stopped.

  
In a way, she had seen it coming, and had done nothing to prevent it. If her father saw what had become of her only, cherished daughter, he probably wouldn't regret being so harsh to pirates.

  
Once they took her off the boat, Abigail was put on a carriage, where two old men already waited, shackled and gagged. Her captor and the driver exchanged words and money, and the sailor turned and made for the ship, not even looking back.

  
***

“So,” said James, putting two cups of warm tea on the table and sitting, “will you tell me why you've been so delayed?”

  
Thomas suddenly looked uneasy. A flash of insecurity ran through James. What could possibly-

  
“I've met Madi.”

  
“Oh.” _Oh._ James' stomach sank. He hadn't seen her in years. He hadn't seen him in years either.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm the sudden flash of energy that had risen in him. He wanted to ask, but he feared the answer; he wasn't sure he was ready to hear it.

“And... how is she?”

"They are still at the tavern, but she doesn't look happy. I can't help but feel like she's been trapped in a life that isn't hers. But she says they're doing quite well. I haven't met him, though.”

Ah. There was it. Thomas always became a little tense when Silver was mentioned. They had never talked much about him, but James couldn't help but feel like he knew. Knew that, even despite the lies and fighting and betrayal, James had loved Silver, and Silver had loved James.

He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut short by Thomas. “He did leave a letter for you, though.”

James' heart jumped. It wasn't the first letter he had sent him. And even though James hadn't replied to any of them yet, he kept on writing, like he couldn't possibly help doing it. James didn't understand him.

“Can I, uh...” he cleared his voice, and started again. “Can I see it?”

Thomas gazed at him. It was one of the times that James failed to read him. His expression, always so honest, was now closed, and his eyes were a mix of sadness and stubbornness that clashed with the sweetness they displayed every day. He was biting the inside of his cheek, and his hands were tightly clasped.

“Yes, of course.” he sighed finally, resigned, taking a sheet of paper from a pocket in his trousers and handing it to him. “I'll leave you alone to read it. If you need me, I'll be out on the beach.” He raised to leave.

James stopped him, grabbing his wrist.

“Hey. You know I love you, right?” he said, trying to convey the infinite truth of it trough his voice.

Thomas smiled, a sad but genuine smile. “I know.”

***

Abigail was tired. She was tired of being awake, and she was tired of traveling, and she was tired of not knowing where she was going. And all this tiredness made her angry.  
She observed the two old men sitting in front of her, their hands bound and their mouth shut with a piece of torn cloth. She wondered why they had been captured and why they'd been gagged while her mouth was still free. Maybe they bit.

  
They kept observing her while the carriage kept going, and this unnerved her to no end. The two men, however, didn't look like they were pirates. They had no visible scars and their hands, even dirty, looked quite like hers: delicate and aristocratic.

  
_What have you done?_ She thought.

She had tried, a few hours earlier, to communicate with the gloomy man driving the carriage. She had asked who he was, where she was being taken, why they had taken her. When there had been no answer she had settled back, and resigned herself to a long and journey, marked by silence, accompanied only by the clouds above. She had allowed the tiredness to wash over her, never quite falling asleep but drifting in and out of consciousness, lulled by the gentle swaying of the carriage.

She was jolted awake by the sudden stop. Looking around, she took in their surroundings. They had stopped in front of a huge fence that opened on a wooden gate. On the gate was a huge round seal. “Non sibi sed aliis”, Abigail could read, before she was made to descend the carriage and the gate doors swept open. Beyond it lay a large space, dotted with men working the earth, armed with nothing else but shovels. A huge house sat in the middle, overlooking the people at work like a strict mother.

She turned to her captors and begged them. She fell to her knees, she tried to fight, she tried to run. The gates closed behind her with an air of finality.

***

Once Thomas closed the door behind his back, James turned to the piece of paper in his hands. It was the fifth letter he had received from him. Silver had written, had explained, had reminisced, but had never apologized. He wasn't sorry, he'd wrote, for what he had done.

  
James wasn't sure how he felt about it, and so he had never answered. But Silver had kept the letters coming.

  
With a deep sigh, he opened the letter and set on reading it.

  
_James,_

  
_I'm writing this letter for a matter of urgency. As you know, Madi and I have maintained contacts with some people in Nassau. Word has reached me that a small group is currently being taken to the Savannah plantation. Amongst them, there is a young girl from a very influent family, arrested because she was collaborating with pirates and selling informations. Her provenience is Charlestown. I think she might be the Ashe girl you whom you first saved and then made an orphan. They are bound to reach the plantation in two weeks._

  
_You may do what you wish with this information. I'm writing this to you because I thought this might be of interest but honestly I don't even know why I am still even bothering. God, I don't even know if you are reading my letters, or throwing them into the fire as soon as they reach your hands. But then again, I have always been inevitably drawn to you._

  
_I hope you are reading this. Even if you don't ever write back, I think I can take it. God knows I am used to speaking to the void and receive no answer. It's alright if you never want to speak to me again, and it's alright if you destroy my letters._

  
_I just want- I don't know what I want. Obviously I did not think this letter through. Madi and I, we're thinking of leaving this place. She is not happy here. She was born to rule, to sit on thrones and wage wars and converse with Kings and Queens. She is not like you and I. I don't know where we will go, I don't know whether we'll ever come back. I don't seem to know many things lately._

  
_I am a different person from who I was two years ago. This life doesn't suit me, but again, when has any life ever suited me? I am still no one, from nowhere, and will always be. This life is not cut out for me, as it isn't for her. We ought to leave this place before it swallows us both._

  
_Madi  is my home now, we have each other and that is enough. It has to be. Even though we are both unhappy, we have each other. Like you and Thomas._

  
_Madi  tells me Thomas comes by more often lately. They seem to fancy each other. I think Madi has found someone at her level to dialogate with. She says he has a beautiful mind. I hope you and him are alright, and that you are finally living in the light of the sun. It's what you deserve._

  
_I don't regret what I have done, but sometimes I wonder if things could have turned out differently. If there could have been a way... but there's no use wondering now. I hope you find your peace; I hope you stop fighting all the time._

  
_Be sure about one thing, James. That without any shadow of a doubt, the thing is I miss you._

  
_John._

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> On a side note: the fic title and chapter titles are translations of sappy italian songs. Kudos to those who recognise them :)

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my first language so forgive my mistakes.  
> Thank you for reading :)


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